Hunters and Healers
by Madame.Starlight
Summary: A military project ready to be terminated, until the allies recover and secure it. This project is Mac Taylor, a biologically modified human. Can Stella bring out the love in the hunter, or become the prey? And who are the Allies? Mac/Stella MSR SMACKED
1. Drop off

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first CSI NY Fic so please be nice and no flames! I'd be grateful if you could review or just subscribe.

OOC A little as its an AU fic. But I'll keep as close to the personalities as I possibly can.

I Hope you Enjoy.

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The two of of them run with silent footsteps through the artificially lit streets. Night coated the terra, offering superficial protection to the forms. The street they enter is vacant, highly unusual for the city that never heart beats are erratic but their breaths come out in short steady bursts.

They keep a pace that does not slow, even though they carry an unconscious male form between them. Running through New York is no easy feat at the best of times. But with a beaten mess being half dragged, half carried through this part of town, the police should be here already. They know that. But these residents are allies. Comrades.

There are too many rats in the system now, so they support these individuals in their little endeavors. Either through fear or respect.  
The trio stop at a building made of a grey stone that is at least seven stories high. After the third floor, each room has large French doors and a small balcony, a Parisian theme evident and typical for this slightly wealthier area.

They reach the building's stone staircase, both grunting as they manoeuvre the body up several stairs towards the glass doors, already open in preparation for their arrival. As they drag the body through the door and across the polished checkered floor, a shrill squeak is emitted from the beaten males shoes, causing both assailants to cringe. A curse is uttered as one individual aggressively punches the button, calling the elevator to their level.

A sharp ding seconds later signals its arrival, to which they drag the lifeless form into the box with them. The aggressive action is repeated at the button for floor number 7. With a quick shudder the elevator comes to life and starts its ascent. The offending signal causes the individuals to bail out of the elevator swiftly and avert their eyes to the oak doors, either side of them. Several steps later they find it.

31A

Jackpot.

They drop the unconscious form carelessly at the door and one knocks softly before they both run down the auburn corridor.

And it's here, with this body and door our story begins.

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Next chapter is up soon, Please review!

_Madame Starlight._


	2. Recovery

Author's note:

Me again! Please read and review!

Thoughts are in _italics. _This will be stepping away from CSI NY slightly but I will be using most characters. Sorry if this disappoints you.

I am not an expert in the military so I will loosely be referencing it so I do not offend anyone.

Just for people to know, I do not oppose the military and I support our boys and women fighting for us. This fic is an AU fic, based on a **fictional **corrupt forces, not our forces.

Thank you and enjoy.

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_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY or any of the characters!_

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_General P.O.V_

At the sharp knocks, Stella let out a long groan into her pillow. Her hand lazily appeared from the white cotton sheets as she groped for her clock. Upon hitting the object, she lifted it up to squint at the neon numbers.

'3AM. Great.' She quipped in a flat tone, throwing the clock back onto the bedside table, throwing her sheets off her form and swinging her legs out of the bed.

She stood up and yawned. She was dressed in a long green tank top with black cotton shorts. The green setting off her smooth caramel skin and hazel green eyes.

Stella moved fluidly, with no sense of urgency and with grace across her wooden floor. She walked in darkness from her room and into the living room. Her only light was the street lights, seeping through the thinly veiled glass. As she approached the front door she let her hand reach out and grasp her weapon from the shelf, a familiar action. Arming her weapon she began the process of unlocking her door with one hand, and on the final bolt she paused, poising herself. Throwing the door open with force she held the weapon in front of her, finger resting on the trigger ready. The females emerald orbs scanning the space in front of her door.

'I think I'm losing it.' She muttered, shaking her head and lowering her weapon.

Casting her eyes downward, she let out a shrill scream before slapping her hand over her mouth, her other hand griping her gun tightly and aiming it at the floor. Her breathing came out in sharp short bursts that slowed once she noticed the figure was not moving.

Stella knelt next to the body; resting the hand with her gun on her bare thigh and began to examine the body meticulously. It was a man no older than 30, on his stomach, severely beaten and a small pool or blood was beginning to form as he is bleeding slowly from a deep head wound. Other signs of trauma were present on his soil streaked porcelain skin and evidence of prior trauma could be found too, in the form of a small scar on his temple. His clothes were heavily soiled in dirt and dried blood, and torn in several places. Stella pinched his earth coloured camouflage jacket between two fingers and let out a confused hum.

'Standard military issue. But why dump a dead soldier at my damn door at three AM?' she whispered to herself, tilting her head to one side.

She began to examine the males face a little more closely and let out a small sigh. His hair was short and the colour of milk chocolate, a strong bone structure that made him instantly handsome. His lips were fuller than most males and pale rose in shade. He had some stubble beginning to appear on his chin and jaw line giving him a rugged look.

'You were handsome weren't you?' Stella sighed, her free hand reaching out to brush his dirt covered cheek.

Frowning at the warmth that met her fingers, she moved her fingers to his neck.

'There is no way...'she muttered.

She applied a small amount of pressure and gasped. Faint but she felt it. His heart beat.

Stella fell to her knees, putting the safety back onto her weapon she carefully slid it to one side.

'Hey? Hello? You need to wake up now sir.' Stella said quietly.

Her hands on his shoulders, shaking them softly. After a few shakes she stopped, realising her actions are having no effect on the man. Grunting, Stella gripped the male's shoulders tightly, turning him over onto his back. Threading her arms under his armpits she grabbed him firmly and dragged him into the apartment.

'Jeeze, you really are all muscle!' she growled, looking down at the unconscious man she held.

Her arms, clearly straining against the weight of his body and the pressure they were under.

As soon as she got him far enough into the apartment she slammed her door closed and began the process of securing it. Picking up her weapon she placed it back on the shelf with her books.

_Stella P.O.V_

I look at the man on my floor and inwardly groan.

_'Haven't had a man in my home for months, and when I finally have one in here, he's unconscious and was dumped at my door.'_

At this thought I let out a small chuckle and make my way towards the kitchen. Bending down I open a cabinet and pull out a glass bowl and two glasses. Standing up, I fill the bowl with warm water and the two glasses with ice water. Carrying them back to the man I place them beside him and then retreat to my bedroom. I slide open the mirrored door to reveal a closet with shelves above the clothes. Standing on the balls of my feet I reach up and grasp a small towel and a throw, before relaxing and sliding the door shut. Making my way back, I move quickly and collapse into a sitting position at his head.

Placing the throw beside me I grasp the towel and dip it into the warm water. I lift his head carefully and place it in my lap. Ringing it out so it is damp, and not soaking, I begin to clean his face of dirt and congealed blood. As I continue my actions my eyes widen. Peeling back the layers on this broken man caused my heart to beat faster.

_'So handsome.'_

A blush rises to my cheeks and I physically shake my head, trying to get rid my mind of these thoughts.

'_He's injured and here I am rating him out of 10.'_

I concentrate on my actions, being careful and not applying too much pressure on his open wound. I notice it is no longer bleeding which is a good sign. I knew there was not any point of trying to call an ambulance. They do not come out after 10PM anymore. Not since the allies formed. So my basic skills would have to suffice for tonight. Once his face is clean I place the small towel in the bowl and grasp the throw at my one side. Holding two corners I throw it out over the male and as falls it covers him entirely. I smile softly.

_'So my mysterious stranger, who are you?'_

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_Read and review please!_

_Thank you for reading_

_Madame Starlight._


	3. Home Sweet Home

Authors Note:

This chapter is my personal favorite. I hope you all enjoy!

Please no flames, I'm new to this to please be friendly.

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY_

Oh! The songs I listened to while writing this were:

Heart Attack - Demi Lovato

O, Come, Emmanuel - Piano Guys (Piano/Cello)

_On with the story.._

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I wince as my eyes slowly adjust to the light flooding into the room. I can faintly hear the sounds of heavy traffic; impatient drivers and conversing pedestrians. Everything returns to normal in the morning light. Sitting up I realize I had fallen asleep tending to the stranger. With the males head still in my lap I stretch carefully. Looking down I notice he has not stirred, the throw is still perfectly draped over his sculpted form. With daylight illuminating the room I can see small movements from his chest, shallow but rhythmic breaths. I am hypnotized by this movement, rise and fall. Rise and fall.

'_But that means he could wake up soon. You don't know a thing about him. Hell, he could be a murderer. You're a CSI you should know better, Stella.'_

'_He was really hurt!'_

'_He could hurt you!'_

My subconscious is starting to knock sense into my heart. Looking down at the males face, I ponder dropping his head on the floor and retrieving my gun. Just in case.

'_You did sign up to help the allied alliance though.. Maybe this is your first assignment? I give up. This_ _inner battle is starting to give me a headache.'_

I raise a hand to my head and release a small moan. What have I gotten myself into? By looking at him I know he will be no threat to me immediately after he gains consciousness. He's going to feel like there is a rave in his head and he's not been invited. But if I'm entirely honest with myself, I don't think he will harm me when he recovers his health.

With an absent mind, I begin to run my fingers through his hair slowly. Still listening to the argument my brain and heart are having, I almost fail to notice the noise my guest is making. Snapping back into reality I stop all movements. Hell. I stop breathing. Gazing down at the man I notice he's emitting a sound.

It is almost feral. It is midway between a growl and a moan. It is not a sound like pain or discomfort, but possibly pleasure? Like a cat? This sound stops as the movement of my hand does. Making the connection I start to brush my fingers through his hair once more and he begins to make this sound again. A chuckle escapes my lips and I smile softly.

'You're strange, that's for sure mister.' I utter, 'But because you are injured and unconscious I will indulge.'

Pink started to grace the male's cheeks as I continued my motions and he continued his noises of affection.

'_Wait, Pink? He is blushing!'_

I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling, biting my lip fiercely as I try not to let a giggle escape. I know my body is shaking and if I don't stop he will wake, but I just can't seem to stop.

Hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end and I quickly regain my composure. My trained senses kick in and I'm on high alert. Slowly, I move my gaze down and notice a pair of mist infused ocean eyes locked onto my face. My breathing slows and my heart is pounding against my ribcage.

'Hello sleepy head. Can you tell me your name?' my voice is strong and unwavering.

'_Sleepy head? Really, Stella? Nice.'_

The stranger makes no movements and gives no indication of a desire to speak. All he is doing is staring into my eyes, almost like he is searching for something.

'My name is, Stella. I took care of you after I found you on my door step. Do you know how you got here?' I enquire.

Again nothing.

Now, I know I'm not renowned for my patience and I can me slipping out of this nice roll pretty quickly. But something in his startling sky eyes keeps my demon at bay.

'Well? Can you speak?' and with the lack of response again I roll my eyes and sigh.

'_Stay calm and breathe, Stella. Just remember he has a head wound. Maybe he's forgotten ho-'_

'Mac. My name is Mac Taylor.' A gruff voice cuts through my train of thought off completely.

He winces and growls, raising a hand to his head, gingerly prodding his wound. My voice fails me as I pick up the glass of water from beside me and offer it to, Mac.

'_Mac, huh? At least I know he isn't too hurt. I should really call, Flack. Just in case.'_

Watching him struggle to sit up draws my attention back to him and I push him up slowly. Taking a few sips of the liquid, he sighs and returns his head to my lap. Blushing doesn't cover what my face is portraying right now, I'm resembling a traffic light on red.

'Thank you, Ma'am.' He growls, placing the glass at his side and closing his eyes momentarily.

His voice is rough but with a sultry tone hidden beneath. Rather alluring.

'You're welcome. But please don't call me 'Ma'am'. I'm not that old am I?' I notice the hint of amusement in my voice as I speak.

The side of his mouth pulls upwards, and he grunts softly in acknowledgement.

'So how why were you at my door?'

'Allies.' Was his reply.

'_That was fast, an assignment and I've only been on board for a month!'_

__Shock floods my face when her starts to speak without prompt.

'They rescued me and told me I'd be placed in a safe house indefinitely. Something must have gone wrong. Sorry for speaking out of term Miss. Seen and not heard.' He sighed at the end of his explanation, stress, pain and what I notice to be fleeting fear, flood his features. His quiet mantra continuing.

'_Rescued? From what? What have I gotten myself into? And what's this seen and not heard mantra?'_

__I cant take his strong negative emotions anymore, so I regain my voice and speak in a soft tone.

'No mistake. I signed up. All of my team have. So I guess welcome home is in order?' I smile at him and there is a tug at his lips once more.

'_Oh dear..'_

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_Thank you for reading._

_Please Review or follow. _

_Hope you enjoyed it._

_- Madame Starlight._


	4. Scars

**_Hello all! Sorry for the slow update. Exams consumed my life._**

**_Hope you like this chapter._**

**_Please read, review or follow, It would mean a lot to me._**

**_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI NY OR ANY OF THE_**_** CHARACTERS**._

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Stella POV

Staring into these baby blue eyes, I can feel myself getting lost, my mind wandering too far from my body. I need to nip it in the bud. Now.

'Well I'm sure you would like to get cleaned up wouldn't you? Always makes me feel better.' I speak quickly, my voice even.

Mac pauses his mantra and nods once. He begins to sit up and with a gentle push from me he steadily gets to his feet, the magnolia blanket pooling around him. I jump to his aid, wrapping an arm around his waist until he finds his balance. I look up to see his face glow with a red hue and determination set in his eyes.

_'He's embarrassed.'_

When I know he is balanced, I remove my arm from his waist and place both of my hands on his biceps as he contemplates taking a step forward.

'I'm here to help, Mac.' I smile up at him, offering comfort to the broken male.

Gingerly, he steps towards me without complication, the hue on his cheeks begins to diminish as one step after another we make our way to my bathroom.

'This feels very strange...' he grumbles. No sooner than these words leaving his mouth, the colour drains from his face leaving him pale and clammy. The muscles under my digits tense and he stops all movements. I watch in curiosity and fear as Mac lowers his head and begins to shake a little.

'M-Mac?' stuttering, I step closer to him.

I watch him visible flinch as I close the short distance between us.

_'RUN!'_

_'_What's wrong, Mac? What's strange?' I whisper gently, moving my thumbs in a comforting fashion against his tense muscles.

The angle of his head limits my view of his face, but what I can see reveals one emotion, fear.

Knowing I'm not going to get a response I begin to pull him towards to bathroom. Mac is reluctant put does not put up a fight, and allows me to gently manoeuvre him through the doorway and into the room.

My bathroom consists of a bath, toilet, a separate shower with a glass screen, and a basin with a decadent mirror on the wall behind it. The tiles are white and black. Black in the shower and the flooring, but the bath, toilet and basin are porcelain white. The frame on the mirror is white, offsetting the black tiled walls. Candles litter the windowsill above the roll top bath.

Leaning down I open the cupboard under the sink and produce two small bottles. Holing them out to him, I notice his eyes now wandering around the space in curiosity.

'Here. One is shampoo and the other is a body wash.' I chirped, holding them out to him.

Slowly, he reaches out for them and takes them from me.

'So I'll leave you to it, towels are on the rack next to the shower.' I state happily, walking around him and out of the door. I close it tightly and lean against it, head in my hands I let out a groan.

'_I need to call, Flack. Now.'_

Slowly I push my body away from the support and make my way to the kitchen. Picking up my cell I tap on Flack's number and wait for the dial tone. Holding it to my ear I tap my fingers against the black marble surface.

'Come on.' I mutter.

**_'Flack.'_**

The sound of my City and Flack almost deafens me, and I hold the phone slightly away from my ear.

'Don? It's Stell.' I speak quietly, but loud enough that he could hear me.

**_'I told you it isn't safe to contact me this early in the day wo-'_**

'I need information. I had a drop off last night.'

Slience graces me, pulling the phone away I check he is still there.

'Don?!' I whisper harshly.

I can hear a door slam and rattle in its frame. Flack sighs before the sound of paper rustling takes over the now faint hum of the city.

**_'I'm here, Stell. Calm down. Mac Taylor, yeah?'_**

'Mhm.'

**_'Shit..'_**

Don?

**_'I was hoping you wouldn't get that mission, Stell.'_**

My heart starts to race and I stop breathing.

'Why, Don?' I utter, breathlessly.

**_'They hurt him, Stell. Real bad. Took him when he was a kid and raised him to be emotionless. He was to be a weapon. A killer. He was treated worse than an animal, Stell. They taught him how to read, write, speak, eat, hunt and kill. But that was about it. His file is disturbing to read. He's killed a lot of people, Stell.'_**

Sadness and pain washed over me as Flack spoke.

'**_You sure you're going to be able to handle this, Stella? We have no idea of what makes him tick. He could easily kill you. Not trying to scare you, but it's the truth. He only respects the ones labelled 'Alpha'.'_**

'So the people who beat him and trained him?'

**_'Exactly.'_**

A low hum escapes my lips as my eyes lock onto the bathroom door. He is dangerous, I can feel it and my brain often screams it at me. But it never reaches my heart. A sigh passes my lips before I find my voice.

'I'll do my best. But I want that file.'

**_'Consider it done. We're wiring funds to you so you can buy the essentials for him and food.'_**

'I appreciate it, Don. Speak soon.'

**_'Bye, Stell.'_**

Lowering my phone to the counter, I keep my gaze trained on the door.

_'The water isn't running. Don't tell me.. No.. Surely he knows how to wash himself.. They weren't that inhumane..'_

My feet carry me to the door and I tap it three times.

'Mac? Are you alright.'

I wait for several moments and no sounds or movements are made.

'Mac, are you decent? I'm coming in.'

I open the door slowly, just in case he did not hear me, and step into the room. The sight that greets me is one that breaks my heart in two. Any fear that lingered was washed away in an instant.

Mac is stood in the same spot I had left him. His back to me, bottles clenched in his hands and his head bowed.

I know now is the time to be smart.

_'His pride may be wounded; he's tired and possibly volatile. Take it nice and slow...'_

'Mac, I'm going to help you ok?' whispering this, I step around him.

I gaze upon his face and fight back tears. Anger, confusion, embarrassment and fear. He's drowning in these emotions.

_'Emotionless killer? This man?'_

Leaning up I start to slowly remove his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Removing the bottles gently from his hands I put them beside the basin, and return my attention to Mac.

'Rise your arms up, honey.'

The nickname caused him to lock his eyes with me as his hands began to move. Slowly i move to grab the hem of his shirt and he flinches.

Rolling his t-shirt up over his form I bite back a startled gasp.

His chest is a patchwork of scars; nude and scarlet red.

A large scar covers the space above his heart that causes me to tear up; bruises shade his body.

'Oh, Mac.' I coo sadly, my fingers itching to touch him.

I turn before I lose my composure I turn, sliding the glass door open: turning the taps on I start up the shower.

Bracing myself, I turn back and smile.

'Can you take your trousers off for me?'

Confused and hesitant, he follows my instructions and bends to remove his boots and socks.

Clad only in black boxers I release the breath I was holding and attempt to stop my eyes from roaming.

'Now just step into the shower.'

Taking a step back in fear he looks away from me.

'Please? I wont hurt you.'

Carefully he nods and walks into the tiled space, gasping as the water hits his beaten frame.

'It's warm!' He utters in shock, his eyes wide as he analysed me.

'Of course it is.'

_He's never had a warm shower._

'Can you handle things from here, Mac?'

I watch him nod and he lets the water cascade down his lean form, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted.

Blushing I evacuate the bathroom hastily, shutting the door tightly behind me.

I blow my bangs out of my eyes and let out a low whistle. 'He will be the death of me.'

Moving dreamily toward my kitchen I gather items to make a sandwich for my new guest, all the while analyzing his body and those scars in my mind.

Placing them onto the counter I begin to arrange his meal, humming a slow tune all the while. Once I have finished putting the simple meal together I open a large bag of crisps and pour them into a bowl. Placing the items on the counter I wander into my bedroom and rummage through my drawers, searching for the t-shirt and sweats combo my ex recently left behind.

Pulling them out I scrutinize the size of the top, before shrugging and making my way to the bathroom. Bending down I place the items on the floor and knock the door softly.

I can't hear water so I assume he has finished.

'I have left some clothes for you by the door, Mac.' I state softly.

The door opens as I straighten myself up and I am met with a very wet, towel clad Mac.

Blushing furiously I take a step back with a sultry smile on my lips.

'Thank you, Miss.' he utters warmly.

'Don't call me Miss, Honey.'

I walk back to the counter and perch on a stool, and I allow myself to indulge in the fried treat taunting me.

Placing one into my mouth I drum my fingers against the counter.

Hearing the click of the door, I turn around to be met with a beautiful sight.

I was right, that top is too tight on him. And for the first time in weeks I praise my skinny ex. The t-shirt accentuates every curve this man possesses.

Taking a deep breath I bite back the urge to whistle. A physique that could intimidate men and women alike.

'I've made you something to eat.' I mutter softly, gesturing casually to the plate on the counter.

Turning around I chew carefully on another crisp, taking my time and focusing on the flavour. Taking a seat beside me, the male picks up one half of his sandwich and takes a large bite from it; but his eyes were analyzing the bowl. Moving my hand towards the item I watch his eyes snap to his plate and his form tense. Taking a handful of the fried treat I place them on his plate, a small smile on my lips.

'Have more if you want them.'

'You're too kind, Miss.'

'Please don't call me, Miss. My name is Stella.'

Watching the conflict flooding his features I release a long, slow sigh; realizing that I am losing the battle to form a bond.

Taking another treat I am shocked when he places a hand over mine as I reach for another guilty treat in defeat. Looking up our eyes lock and a small yet powerful smile caresses his lips.

'Thank you, Stella.'

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**_Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. _**

**_-Mme Starlight. x_**


	5. The File

**_Author's Note:_**

**_I know I've been away from this story for a while. Again. But I'm back with a vengeance. You will get another chapter by Friday, This I vow. From here on in, things will start to heat up. So get buckled in people. It is one hell of a ride (I hope)._**

**_This chapter has several emotional triggers. So please be warned. If you are affected please feel free to email me._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY._**

* * *

As to be expected the first night is a turbulent and sleepless one for both of us. After I show him his room I bid him goodnight, leaving him to his own bed time routine; I retired to my room. It was soon after our impromptu night feast, that left my fridge bare and my conscious guilty. But the childlike grin and wonder that appeared on Mac's face when I introduced him to chocolate was worth it. Noting that I will have to go for a long jog in the morning I placed my service weapon in the bedside drawer and perched on my satin covered bed.

I am a simple woman, making her way in a predominantly male profession. So I have to put on a hard-ass attitude. My home is simple, functional and stylish; but my bedroom is where my feminine side truly flourishes. My room consists of two colours; white and cobalt blue. A four poster bed with the wood white washed, to match the ornate vanity and drawers. The window seat is upholstered in the distinctive blue shade with white scatter cushions thrown around carelessly. Airy white curtains deck the window; light white chiffon is strung strategically around the four posts of my bed.

My secret paradise.

Falling into the layers of fabric that adorn my bed I let out a long sigh and feel my eyes becoming heavy. Casting a final glance at my watch I note the time. 05:30AM.

With a loud groan I roll onto my side and let sleep overwhelm me.

The sound of my phone chirping stirs me too soon and I rise to throw it at the wall. Spying Flacks name I think better of it and flip it answer it.

'Bonasera.'

'Morning Cheerful.'

'Har-Har.'

A soft chuckle travels through the phone and brings a smile to my lips.

'The file is outside your door, Stell. Sorry I couldn't give it to you personally. It's risky.'

'I understand.'

'You also have a week's paid absence. No questions asked. To get him sorted y'know?'

'Appreciate that too, Don.'

'Gotta go. Take care.'

He ends the call and I gingerly rise to start my day.

Padding to his room I panic when I notice his bed has not been touched. The covers and pillows are undisturbed.

'Mac?' I shout, my vision spinning around to examine the lounge and kitchen.

'Yes, Miss Stella?' His gruff voice floats from the room I perceived to be vacant.

Snapping my head back around I now spot a sock clad foot poking out from underneath the bed.

'What are you doing under there?!' I exclaim incredulously.

Slowly he emerged from the small gap and stood to attention, his posture stiff and his expression pained.

'Trying to sleep, Miss Stella.' He replied quietly, his hand drifting up to massage his neck.

Slapping my forehead with the plam of my hand I grumble quietly to myself as I close my eyes. Feeling the tension rolling off my handsome flatmate, I open my eyes and point to the bed.

'You do know you can sleep in it, Right?' I ask, examining his reaction to my question.

'Masters sleep in beds. I sleep on the floor, Miss Stella.'

'Get into bed.' I order softly, stepping into the room and pulling the covers down.

Reluctantly slipping underneath the various layers, Mac visibly relaxes and melts into the mattress as his back makes contact; his eyes already closing. Tucking him in was a bizarre task but his calm features brought a smile to features. Placing a feather light kiss on his head I reel at my actions and step quickly away.

'I will be home soon. Sleep for as long as you can, Mac.' I utter breathlessly.

I leave the door ajar, noticing his breathing had already evened out. Opening my front door I grab the file and a large package. Closing the door quietly, I place the file on the side cabinet and open the package.

Money.

Sweet mother of.. A Lot of money. More than I make in half a year.

Removing some of the currency I place it on the side and take the rest back to my bedroom, where I lock it in my safe. Quickly dressing in black pants, an emerald greed chiffon shirt, my black boots adorned with my weapon and badge, I move with purpose into my lounge. Grabbing my purse I stuff the money inside before placing it in my bag. Grabbing , my coat and keys I leave the apartment; casting a longing glance at the file screaming at me from my side drawers. Later, Stella. Later. I have a feeling a large glass of Merlot will be required.

* * *

Dropping the dozen or so bags to the floor a groan escapes me as I slide down the door to join them.

'I hate shopping.'

I purchased enough food for the week along with clothes and essentials for Mac. Hearing his quiet snores I smile to myself. He must have been shattered.

Grabbing the bags that contain food, I shakily rise to my feet and move to the kitchen. Putting everything away takes a few minutes, in which my heeled boots were discarded. I pick up the other bags and place them on the sofa to show Mac when he wakes and bite my lip softly. I went all out. The shirts were all designer and would set off his gorgeous eyes. An array of t-shirts, ties, vests, pants, jeans and shoes filled the bags.

Wandering back to the kitchen I pour myself a generous glass of Merlot, my liquid courage, and take a long draw.

'I think I went overboard.' I groan to myself placing my glass on the bar, making my back to the front door.

Securing it with the several different chains and bolts I turn my attention to the manila folder with red stamps scattered about its surface.

Grabbing it I walk to my breakfast bar and get comfortable on a stool. Taking a deep breath I open it and soon that breath leaves me. Spreading the items over the bar I feel a lump rise in my throat.

'Oh, Mac..'

**_'Project name: Hunter _**

**_Given name: McKenna Llewellyn Taylor. _**

**_Responds to: Hunter/Mac'_**

Noting that cetain details have been covered in black marker I growl softly. Probably because they do not want me hunting these assholes down and killing them.

'**_Project Hunter has no recollection of family or blood relatives. Perfect candidate.'_**

Again. Bastards. He was three when they snatched him. A baby in arms. Unable to bring myself to read about his early years I move to his teenage years and instantly regret the decision.

'**_Age: Thirteen._**

**_Hunter successfully carried out its first hit. Clean kill and remembered protocol.'_**

Fourteen? I was 27 when I killed my first perp and I see his face to this day. Mac was still a child! This is inhumane.

**_'Note: Will now only respond and carry out orders from three Alphas. Hunter will not even sit on command by any other individual. This has been tested several times. Attempts to modify this behaviour (conditioning) have failed.'_**

Kidnapped and then trained like a dog. Shaking my head my hands ball into fists as I continue to scan the paperwork.

**_'Survived the 8_****_th_****_ poison. Hunter shall be subjected to several more.'_**

**_'Endured high voltage experiment. Has the ability to withstand high voltages.'_**

They were making him untouchable. Making him endure agony and emotional pain, simply for their amusement and profit.

**_'Sense of smell, vision, hearing, touch and taste are now beyond superior. Can smell blood and determine type easily. Lack of emotional output and physical strength are also superior. Will undergo the training all Marines endure and Special Ops.'_**

He's a trained killer. An untouchable assassin. Any government would kill to have such a strong and successful murderer on their side.

**_'Carried out several successful 'suicide' missions with a team. Sustained a scar over his heart on a secret mission in Beirut in 1990 (Age: Fifteen)'_**

My mouth falls open at this information. The man asleep in the room behind me had completed his training for the Marine Corps and Special Ops in three years. Three. How hard were they working the child?!

Reading further on I discover he has killed more than his share of individuals in recent years; details of which he accurately reported to his 'Alphas'. He has never failed. Never missed a hit. His accuracy and aim when handling a weapon is one few snipers possess.

Hunter. The governments weapon.

With baby blues that could hypnotise any woman.

Hitting my head on the table I groan softly and repeat the action. He wasn't emotionless yesterday.

Sitting up I look at the most recent entry. It was made a week ago.

**_'Note: Hunter displayed an extreme and sudden emotional reaction. The subject broke an assistants hand for touching its blanket. Beginning to show signs of 'Guarding'.'_**

'A blanket?' I state aloud in confusion.

'It was the only thing they gave me to sleep on. I had it for years.' Mac's deep, husky voice whispered into my ear.

Screaming like a small girl I sprang off my stool and twirled to look at him, my hand over my heart.

'HOLY HELL!'

He takes several steps back and looks at the floor, his cheeks red and his fists clenched.

'Sorry, Miss Stella. I shouldn't have left the room until you asked properly. I just, I heard you say my name..' he stumbled over his words.

My breathing and my heart still erratic I lean on the stool taking deep breaths.

'I need to put a bell on you! And I told you. This is your home. You don't get orders. Do as you wish, Honey..' I babble seamlessly, checking my heart is indeed still in my chest.

'I won't hurt you.' He whispers sadly.

Looking up at his pained expression I turn my head and look at the sheet of paper on the bar.

**'****_Lack of emotional output.'_**

Were these people blind?

Moving my gaze back I smile a little at him and hold a hand out to him, beckoning him forward. Slowly he takes small steps towards me, stopping when his toes touch mine. Leaning forward I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tightly, burying my face into his neck.

'W-what are you doing?!' He exclaims.

'It's called a hug, Mac.'

Carefully he wraps his arms around my waist and crushes my form against his; the embrace takes the air out of my lungs. After several moments his voice cuts through the easy yet electric silence.

'Miss Stella?'

'Yeah?'

'I like your hugs. Can we do this more often?' He asks, his tone innocent but a glace reveals his smile is cheeky but cautious.

I release a soft giggle that is foreign to me and place my head back on his shoulder.

'As often as you like.'

'Don't say that.'

'Why not, Mac?'

He takes a deep breath and turns his head, so his lips graze my ear in a way that sends shivers down my spine and my stomach to flip.

'Because then, I won't let you go, Stella.'

* * *

**_Ahhh! He's so sweet!_**

**_Long chapter for my loyal readers and reviewers._**

**_Hope you enjoyed it. Please Review, Follow or Favourite. And feel free to private message me with questions._**

_Adios._

**_-Mme. Starlight._**


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